Restart

it has been long time since my last post, but you know how it is - work, lack of time - busy indeed ! but on Tuesday our boss had her birthday and we had an assignment to make as a presence: tell me something about your mum... and so I did - I wrote a little story connected with me, my mum, my feelings to her as a grown up woman and - Amsterdam!



Here it is:

Name: Danuta Adamczewska - Krolikowska
Mother of: Joanna Krolikowska
Born on: 5.04.1952


She came to Amsterdam. For a first time since her journey to Canada 20 years ago, she crossed again the border of Poland. This time the roles have changed – I felt like a mother who’s waiting for her little girl and worrying about her journey: is she having a good trip? Is she afraid? How does she communicate with people not knowing the English language? Did taxi take her from the bus station? Is the taxi driver going to take her straight to my place or try to rip her off going around and letting the meter to count 1 euro after another? What if she doesn’t take the taxi – how is she going to come or contact with me – her phone is off since she didn’t turn her roaming on? Talking about phones – just before her coming my phone broke down and I almost freaked out trying to get ANY for the replacement, because I have to have it when she comes, so she could call me any time (or rather I could call her any time I want to check if she’s ok ;) )… all these fears embraced me and as much as I was happy about her coming I was also worried with the same force… on the day she was suppose to come I woke up very early, called the taxi for my Mum and waited… and waited… and waited… and started to worry… and called to taxi company asking “Did somebody took my Mother from the bus station?!!!”… then waited again… walked out searching for the lost taxi in the quite complicated students houses area… then I called AGAIN, because it seamed impossible that the taxi is not on the place yet… and while I was hanging on the phone and waiting for the reply from any taxi driver who might have taken my Mum from the bus station – finally I saw her: coming with her suitcase, smiling and looking totally relaxed – my Mamisia! “I told taxi driver that it’s the big white boat! I saw it even and I was trying to show him – this is that boat! But he didn’t listen and dropped me off beside one of the buildings with the number 42 on the door. So I went out, waited till he’s gone and walked straight to the boat” she said.

My big girl. How could I be worried about her? I mean – it’s my Mum! The best, the strongest and the smartest Mum in the world! At least for me ;)

Talking about rights, God and roof-fiddlers

but on the other hand...

There's great a quote from the "Fiddler on the Roof" - have a look:

"Mordcha: Why should I break my head about the
outside world? Let them break their own heads.
Tevye: He's right. As the Good Book says,
"If you spit in the air, it lands in your face."
Perchik: That's nonsense. You can't close your
eyes to what's happening in the world.
Tevye: He's right.
Avram: He's right and he's right?
How can they both be right?
Tevye: You know, you're also right."

3, 2, 1 - start!

"It's not about me, it's about making the world a better place"

Battle for the Planet

sometimes our actions turn out to be misunderstood ;o)

but we shouldn't give up - there's always tomorrow!

After hours in da Pindakaas

cutting the edge...

Lotus on irish stream

Random thought…the magic of heard tunes of music played on string instruments for me lye’s in the fact that I know how it’s coming to life – I know how it feels to have your fingers on the neck of instrument pressing the string, while moving the fiddlestick trough it and generate vibrations, which are felt so intense that your body respond immediately on its power by trembling with it… it’s all in my head, in my finger tips, my veins all over the body – kept as some old times, but still so alive and easy to bring back, memories … that’s the power of having played an instrument – physical reaction on just simple tunes…